


Snow Day

by kenzieann27



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bad Writing, Gay Richie Tozier, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Snow, Soft Richie Tozier, Steve is a dork and I love it, This Is STUPID
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23907484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenzieann27/pseuds/kenzieann27
Summary: Steve experiences his first time out in the snow!For the lovely @gaybullies on Tumblr
Relationships: Steve Covall/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Snow Day

**Author's Note:**

> I do run a (super cool) Richie and Steve ask blog on Tumblr (@ask-covier), so go say hello! This particular story doesn't fit into that timeline, but I thought this would be fun to write.
> 
> Or go say hello to me on my main blog! @kenzie-ann27

“Babe,” Steve whispered, shaking a snoring Richie as he was napping, curled up on the couch in a sea of throw blankets. It was a rather cold April afternoon, something Steve was new to in his first year since moving up to Chicago to be with Richie full-time. He missed L.A., of course, with its sunny beaches and rather stagnant weather. Though, his boyfriend had lived in a rather quiet neighborhood just north of the city in a nice brick house that overlooked Lake Michigan. Still, though, it was a very cold day, even noticeable to the couple’s one-year-old labradoodle, whom Richie named Stan for reasons Steve hadn’t really known, who was curled up right beside Richie on the sectional. The dog had lived with Richie for a few months before Steve moved in, Steve having numerous video calls with Richie where Stan would be laying rather uncomfortably in his lap. “Babe, wake up.”

Richie mumbled something indecipherable to himself, turning over so that he faced the back of the couch. “Trying to sleep.”

“No, seriously, it’s… please, just get up.”

Groaning dramatically, Richie turned back over and sat up, causing Stan to jump off the couch to stretch on the floor. Staring forward at the blurry form of a person standing at the end of the couch, Richie leaned over to pick up his glasses off the small coffee table next to him. “Stevie, I love you, but I just had a cross-country flight this morning,” he yawned, rubbing at his eyes before pushing the thick frames onto his face. Richie’s eyebrows furrowed once he saw the rather ecstatic expression on Steve’s face, half-expecting some emergency to be taking place to have been woken up with such urgency. “What do you want?”

“It’s- it’s snowing,” he said behind his hand, covering a smile that spread across his face.

“Okay? And this necessitates you to wake me up because?” He scratched his head as he checked his phone.

“I’ve never seen snow before, dude! It’s just… it’s so cool.” Steve walked over to the large window next to the door that led to their backyard; if he was being honest with himself, that window was one of the reasons that led Steve to move in in the first place, it being a beautiful floor to ceiling window with a black frame. Their backyard wasn’t much of a yard, per se, only having a small patch of grass before leading to concrete, with a small pool that had one of the best views Steve had seen; despite it being a lake, Lake Michigan seemed more like an ocean, and it was just as beautiful as one. “Let’s go make a snowman. Or, like… what do you call them, snow fairies? Where you get on the ground and wave your arms like a crazy person.”

“I think you mean snow angels, babe, and- seriously?” Richie looked over towards where his boyfriend was standing, noticing how there was roughly a half-inch of snow speckled across the grass. “Oh my God, you woke me up for _that_? You need, like, way more snow than that to be able to do anything. It’s a rule of thumb, dude, anything less than six inches is not worth your time. Snow included.”

“I’m going to ignore that and just say that I was brought up to believe angels do not have wings, so snow fairies makes more sense. I’m sure Stan would agree with me, too.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he would.” Richie rolled his eyes, looking down at the curly-furred dog who was staring back up at him. “What kind of idiot says angels don’t have wings?”

“That idiot would be Moses.”

“Good thing I’m not part of that religion, then.” Richie pointed towards the ceiling as he stood up, walking over to the kitchen. “My bad, dude! Please don’t smite me!”

“He’s part of your religion, too, dipshit. Have you ever read the Bible?”

“Have you?”

“I-” Steve paused, turning around to see Richie smirking at him from the kitchen counter. “Why would _I_ read the Bible? Have _you_ read the Torah?”

“As a matter of fact, I have. Well, I know a bunch of parts of it. It’s very boring.”

“Yes, because I imagine that the Bible is just riveting.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Shaking his head, Steve walked over to the small kitchen, snagging his phone off the white countertop. “Well, this conversation has gone nowhere,” he commented, walking down the short hallway to their bedroom. “Are you going out or not?”

“You’re seriously going out to play in the snow?” Richie set down his coffee mug on the counter, watching Stan as he jumped back up on the pile of blankets on the couch. He laughed as he remembered his own mother yelling at him when he begged to go out and play in the snow, “Oh, honey, don’t forget your horrendously thick snow pants that never keep out the snow from getting into your boots, so putting them on in the first place was a huge waste of time and effort! I’ll make you a gross-ass hot chocolate when you come back inside; I’ll be sure to make it with water instead of milk,” he laughed again, walking to their bedroom and sitting on the edge of the neatly made bed.

"Hot chocolate sounds pretty nice, actually," Steve remarked, tugging on a pair of sneakers. At the time, he hadn't thought of buying a pair of boots, or anything for snow. It simply didn't cross his mind as he was making the move from the West Coast to the Midwest.

"Are you seriously geeking out over snow? It's like- it's just frozen water. It's basically just ice. You can go look in our freezer, babe, and your mind will be blown."

"Keep it up and that'll be the only thing that gets blown for a very long time."

"Hey, I wouldn't have to say shit like that if you weren't such a dork about frozen water."

“I’ve never seen snow before. It’s always so pretty in movies and stuff,” he said, searching through their closet for his warmest coat. “Are you sure you don’t want to go? We can get some lunch on the way back. It’ll just be a short walk; we can even take Stan.”

"Stan hates the snow. Makes the birds go South."

"What is with you and this narrative of Stan and the birds?" Steve chuckled as he pulled on one of Richie's older coats, unable to locate his own. "Dogs hate birds."

"I think he finds them interesting," Richie shrugged, trying not to laugh as Steve struggled to reach the small box on the shelf in their closet. "He just chases them because he wants to be friends with them. If I recall correctly, I used that same method when I first met you." He stood up from bed, grabbing the box off the shelf and handing it to Steve, who simply glared at him.

"You wouldn't have to do that every time if your house wasn't made for insanely tall people."

"Yeah, but it is so much fun," Richie smirked as he tousled the shorter man's hair, returning back to his spot on the bed. "I guess it might not be a completely terrible idea if Stan and I accompanied you on your journey to obtain human sustenance."

"God, why do you have to phrase it like that?" Steve searched through the box for a hat, mainly to cover his ears while outside, though he set the box down on the bed next to Richie after noticing most of the knitted hats were worn-down or out of style completely. Walking back over to the closet, he returned with a dark green cap, looking over as Richie smiled at him. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" he asked, leaning over to grab a pair of his sneakers from next to his suitcase.

"Just… you smile at me for no reason."

"You're just like a big dork. No adult person gets this excited about snow, even if they've never seen it before. It's… I don't know," he shrugged. "It's cute, I guess. You're cute."

"Man, you're really trying to earn those brownie points, aren't you?" Steve laughed, walking down the hallway back to the living room. "A nice, week-long dry spell out in L.A. does that, doesn't it?"

* * *

Richie didn't know what to expect, seeing Steve's reaction to the snow for the first time. He seemed like a kid in a candy store, just overwhelmed with the infinite amount of excitement around him. There was something about Steve that Richie never really got, but he was too afraid to ask in case he would change that; Steve, essentially, loved life more than anything. He'd always suggest new things to do, new places to go on vacation, new hobbies to try. He always wanted something new, which, if he was being honest, scared Richie, being a decade older made him seem a whole lot less new. Still, though, Steve loved doing things with Richie, even if Richie was terrible at those things; ice skating and art museums, for example, were definitely not things Richie understood, but a certain doe-eyed boyfriend didn't care. He simply wanted to experience everything he could with the person he loved the most.

Today, though, they ended up deciding to make lunch at home, grabbing some hot chocolate on their walk. Richie volunteered to go into the small shop to purchase the drinks, looking back through the window to see Steve still smiling up at the sky as he held tight onto Stan's bright blue leash. Something so small meant so much to him, something that Richie had a hard time understanding until he saw his boyfriend's slightly crooked smile as the snowflakes continued to fall. It was that completely pure smile, one full of innocence and joy, that made Richie understand how Steve could fall in love with something like that, something unique and special that is never replicated. In short, Steve simply loved life, and the snow was just a part of life that he was able to mentally check off his list of things to experience. Before, this quality was something indescribable to Richie, as Steve just seemed to be a generally happy person. He cherished every day, every moment, and that was liberating to Richie; he knew he was lucky to have Steve in his life at all after all they’ve been through. Countless long-distance video calls and fights over the phone led to this, he knew, and it was worth all of that and more. This was love, what they had was love, even if the circumstances were a bit bittersweet to Richie.

The voice of the young barista brought Richie back to reality and out of his thoughts, smiling at him shyly as she handed over the two small cups. Because his career was going so well lately, he suspected the extra-friendly attention he received from complete strangers was not just due to the world becoming friendlier but because they knew his face and his voice and, honestly, too much about his personal life. The world still scared him, especially with this new openness he tried to portray, and it was filled to the brim of people pretending to be better than they are. Richie was curious about their falsehood; is it better to at least pretend to be okay with who he is, or should people just tell him how it really is, as he knows many of them would want to? That is, is a painful truth better than a soft lie?

Steve, meanwhile, had made himself comfortable on this sidewalk, staring up appreciatively at the clouds above. _Thank you_ , he thought as he spun around, paying no mind when someone would pass him and stare. It is true to say that Steve loved life, though it might be a bit of an oversimplification. You see, when Richie was a young kid fighting off murderous birthday-party entertainers, as Richie would describe it to his boyfriend on a midnight video call, Steve was learning to run and climb. They had fought extensively over this fact, it bothering Steve more than Richie.

It wasn't the numbers that were bothersome but it was their meanings that were. Steve was, in his opinion, in his prime, being only 33 years old; he wasn't ready to slow down and dedicate his life to one task at a time like Richie was. Steve wanted to explore, to experience, to examine everything life had to offer. He wanted to do every little thing he didn’t know how to do already. He wanted to surf, to ice skate, to cook, garden, speak French. Life is so, so short, and Steve knew he didn’t want to waste it doing anything he didn’t want to do.

Richie understood this part of Steve, he understood it almost immediately after meeting him. Even though he couldn’t put it into words, he knew that Steve was just someone that radiated positivity and kindness (though he was a bit of a perfectionist when it came to his job, Steve was a lot calmer after hours) in all of the things he wanted to do. So when he walked out of that small coffee shop, he couldn’t help but stare as Steve looked up at the sky, appreciating every last snowflake that fell from it. He watched as the cold air turned those pale cheeks pink, as the flakes fell past the old Athletics cap to land on his boyfriend’s face to replace the freckles that never appeared there on their own. A smile grew on Richie’s face on its own, with one thought going through his head as the world seemed to stop for them: _I’m going to marry him one day_.

* * *

Their walk back was mostly quiet, with Stan stopping to smell every person they came across. It was hard for both of them to go a week apart despite their relationship over the past two years being long-distance. Steve remembers the moment when Richie came home with Stan, who was only six months old when he found him at a shelter he volunteered at for a day. Steve had come home from work to see Richie had texted him nearly two dozen times, telling him about the big news he had. Knowing his boyfriend, Steve believed that the “big news” would be that he bought chicken nuggets that were shaped like dinosaurs or that he is trying a new brand of shampoo. When he got his laptop set up on the counter like usual, however, he was greeted with excitement that he hadn’t heard from Richie in a long time.

“It is times like this that I am glad you live so far away, my dearest Stephen, since you can’t murder me for being stupid.”

“And what stupid thing have you done this time?” Steve moved out of the way of the computer, going to his fridge to grab a small bottle of grape juice. When he returned back to his spot at the counter, Richie was nowhere to be seen on the screen, though he could be heard faintly in the background. “You still there?”

“Yeah, hold on, I’m just- c’mere, you little-"

When he returned, to Steve’s surprise, Richie was holding a squirmy little ball of black, curly fur. He struggled to speak as the ball of fur kept moving around, trying to break free from his arms. “No fucking way. Are you serious?”

Setting the puppy down on the floor, Richie stood back up and scratched his forehead. “Yeah, I, uh… I got a dog. He’s super cute though! In my defense, I do have a weakness for cute guys with dark hair.”

“I'm not mad, I just- you don’t seem like a dog person, y’know?” Steve set down the juice on the counter, smiling as he thought about the idea of parenting a dog with Richie. “Tell me about him.”

“Well, you know I was volunteering at that dog place last month, right? Well, I just saw him there and just knew I had to have him. Plus you know, I get lonely sometimes, so I thought it would be fun to have a cute dog around- well, not little. He’ll be a bigger dog, I guess. He’s a labradoodle.”

“Yeah, I got that from the curls,” Steve laughed. “Have you thought of a name yet?”

“Stan.”

“Stan?” he asked, somewhat incredulously. Steve thought it was a bit strange to give a pet a person’s name.

“Well, his name was originally Dan. So, like, it had to sound similar or whatever.” Richie looked down at the floor, presumably at Stan. “I don’t know, I kinda like the name. It suits him."

"You're lucky I like dogs," he said, getting Richie to return his attention to him. "I was thinking of moving out there. I mean, L.A. is nice and I love it here, but you're a lot more than that, yeah? It is sort of hard to keep up with everyone at work here when your career is just- it's insane, we know that. So I was just thinking of doing my own thing and just working with you. If I wanted to I could pick up one or two other people but right now you obviously need me, so… is that okay?"

It was okay, of course; if you ask them, however, they'd both agree that things were more than okay. Steve believed that as he stared wide-eyed at the snow on their way home, and Richie believed that as he listened to the endless compliments of the weather. It was just snow, he understood, but maybe that’s what made it so great; it doesn’t have to be some big thing with Steve, he was just happy with good things. _And he makes fun of me for getting excited over new shampoo_ , Richie thought as they eventually arrived back at their house.

Unsurprisingly, Stan wasn’t too much of a fan of the snow, eager to get back inside to the warm safety of the couch and its mountain of blankets. Steve groaned in annoyance after letting Stan into the house, turning back around.

“You forgot to get the mail again, didn’t you?” Richie smirked as he followed him back to the end of the driveway.

“I was too excited about you finally getting home, stupid,” Steve remarked, grabbing the envelopes from the mailbox and handing them over to the taller man, taking the empty cup of hot chocolate from him.

Richie raised an eyebrow as he looked over the mail, seeing nothing of interest. “Oh, _excited_ you say?”

“Yeah, then it started snowing and things just got even better. I know that I tend to think every day is a good day, but today is a really good day. Things get boring when you’re not around, Rich. Experiencing stuff isn’t that fun when I’m just by myself,” he stopped walking, looking up at Richie. “Stan’s cool, don’t get me wrong, but, you know, he’s a dog. You’re- you’re a person, and you happen to be the person I love more than anything.”

Richie smiled as he looked at Steve (or, well, those big brown eyes of his), who had an equally loving smile on his blushed face. Giving him a quick kiss that was just a little too dry and tasted too faintly of the hot chocolate for his liking (and Richie never disliked any types of kisses), he laughed to himself. “I guess the week-long dry spell didn’t treat you very well, either?”

“You just had to ruin the moment, didn’t you?” Steve rolled his eyes, though he did have a small smile on his face that he was trying to fight.

“The moment’s not the only thing I’m trying to ruin, babe.”

“Oh my God, you are disgusting.”

“Yeah, but you love it.”

“I don’t know why you’re talking about sex so much,” Steve commented as they reached the front door once again, tossing the empty cups into the hard plastic garbage can before reaching the front door. “I thought you said that anything less than six inches wasn’t worth my time?”

Richie laughed as he looked up, watching the snow as it continued to fall slowly. _Yeah_ , he thought to himself as he was pulled into another kiss. _I guess snow is pretty great_.


End file.
